


margaritaville

by lazyfish



Series: you are my piece of paradise [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Hunter makes Bobbi a well-deserved margarita on a beach.





	margaritaville

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/gifts).



Bobbi’s not sure anyone would expect her and Hunter to land where they did, on a beach in the Bahamas. It seems like the sort of place people would go for vacation, not for permanence, and that’s what she and Hunter both like about it. After a life filled with firefights and espionage, she thinks they deserve a bit of an extended vacation.

What just about everyone would expect - or at least not be surprised by - is the fact that Hunter opened up his own beach bar. It’s a surprisingly lucrative business. Unlike some of the nearby places, Hunter doesn’t charge an arm and a leg for cocktails, but he more than makes up the difference in tips. He’s charming, that man of hers, Bobbi thinks as she sits at the bar. Sometimes she can get annoyed when he turns up the charm higher than what’s necessary in her opinion, but she’s the one who gets to hold him at night, at that’s all that really matters.

“Anything for my favorite customer this fine afternoon?” Lance asks, propping himself on his forearms on the bar. Bobbi leans forward to snatch a kiss from him, smiling at the crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he laughs at her. “I’m working, woman,” he chuckles. That doesn’t stop him from stealing another brief kiss. 

“I’m pretty sure everyone knows by now that you’re mine,” she teases. Bobbi’s a semi-permanent fixture at the bar. It lets her spend time with Hunter when there’s a lull in business, but it’s still close enough to the beach that she can enjoy the sun and the sand and the surf. It’s true that most of Hunter’s customers are tourists, but a non-zero number of the bar’s Yelp reviews have mentioned ‘the blonde woman’. If they did their research, they’d know to be expecting Bobbi.

“Either that or they think I’m cheating on my wife with a beautiful blonde,” Hunter replies. His wedding ring is a constant accessory on his hand, and another reason Bobbi doesn’t mind when he’s a little over-enthusiastic with his schmoozing skills. If someone gets too flirty in return, Hunter just flashes his ring at them, and they back off quickly enough.

“You really think I’m pretty?” She asks, batting her eyelashes.

“I believe I said beautiful,” Lance replies. He tucks a strand of her sun-bleached hair behind her ear gently. “And of course you are. You’re my wife.” He grabs her hand - her left hand, where her engagement and wedding rings shine in the sunlight - and kisses her knuckles softly. 

They’re interrupted by a clump of tourists approaching the bar, and Bobbi listens to Lance’s banter with a fond smile on her face. He’s talking about those stupid paper umbrellas again, and how his favorite part of making drinks is putting the umbrella in them, and… Bobbi sighs happily. She married a goofball, and she’s so happy that Hunter  _ gets _ to be a goofball instead of hiding behind some mask or other designed to make him seem more dangerous or more competent. 

“I’m back,” Hunter says when he finishes serving the customers their ridiculously fruity beverages. “And still taking orders, if you want anything.”

“Hmm,” Bobbi hums, considering. It’s late afternoon, so she doesn’t feel bad ordering something alcoholic, but she still needs to consider what strikes her fancy. “How about a margarita?”

“Your wish is my command,” Hunter says. He retreats to the corner of the bar with the blender, his flip flops clicking merrily against the bottom of his feet. Bobbi wolf-whistles at him when he bends down to grab the limes from beneath the bar. She winks shamelessly when he turns to give her an exasperated smile.

Her husband finishes squeezing the limes and adding the liquor to the blender, throwing in a few scoops of ice and turning it on. While the margarita blends he goes about preparing the glass, salting it and hanging a lime slice on the outer rim. She’s surprised when he prepares a second glass, but doesn’t mention it when he brings both drinks over to her.

“This one’s mine,” Hunter says, answering her question before she can ask it. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a drink together,” Bobbi muses as she takes the first sip of her drink. She sighs happily. “Perfect as always, darling.”

“Happens when you work at a bar,” Hunter says with a shrug. “You get time to drink with everyone except your wife.”

“What’s your obsession with that word today?” Bobbi asks, cocking her head. She’s been Hunter’s wife for a while now, and she’s never heard him say it so many times in such a short period.

“Figures you wouldn’t remember,” Hunter says, sighing melodramatically. “Today is the anniversary of the first time I saw you,” he explains. Bobbi honestly can’t remember the current date - that’s the sort of thing that happens when you have no responsibilities - but she doesn’t doubt that Hunter’s telling the truth.

“Yes, the day you first saw a demon from hell,” Bobbi says, nodding sagely.

“Hellbeast or not, it was still the best day of my life,” Lance says. His eyes crinkle again, and Bobbi smiles at that. She never thought she’d get to see the day when he had laughter lines, but here they are.

“Best day of mine, too,” she whispers, reaching up to cup his face in her hand. He flinches a little at the cold of her palm, but that’s quickly forgotten when she presses her lips against his. It’s not the innocent pecks they shared earlier - Bobbi wants Hunter to know that she meant what she said. His mouth tastes like lime and tequila, his lips rough from spending his days in the sun, but it feels like home. 

“How about I close early tonight?” Lance asks when she pulls away. “We can take a walk on the beach, maybe find some moonlight for you to bask in…”

“I’d like that,” she replies, smiling. “I’d like that a lot.”

\---

Lance closes the bar as soon as she finishes her margarita, and while there are some people who are unhappy with that development, they’ll all be back tomorrow anyways. If they’re not - oh well. It’s not like Bobbi and Hunter are strapped for cash, or they wouldn’t have come to a tourist trap in the first place.

It’s a tourist trap, but damn is it a beautiful one. They walk along the beach together, hand in hand. It’s small marvels like the fact that her knee doesn’t twinge at all when her toes sink into the sand that Bobbi appreciates the most. Being an agent was rough on the body. Even though she kept up with her fitness routine, she doesn’t feel like she was breaking down nearly as fast.

Then there’s Hunter. She’s walking on the beach with Hunter, her husband, and she can’t remember the last time they argued over something more tangible than who was hogging the covers at night. It was easy to understand why couples honeymooned here - it was hard to disagree in paradise.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Lance teases from her side. He squeezes her hand gently. 

“I am,” she agrees. She waits a beat. “Let’s sit here for a while.” Bobbi dumps herself onto the sand unceremoniously, and Hunter doesn’t have much of a choice other than to follow her - else he’d be dragged down, which would be much less pleasant for both parties.

“Watching the sunset, Bobbi?” Hunter asks, bumping their shoulders together. “I knew I’d make a romantic out of you yet.”

“Getting married to you wasn’t romantic enough?” She snarks back.

“Mmm, no.” Hunter grins at her. “Maybe if you had proposed.”

“Trust me, I was going to if you didn’t get your ass in gear,” Bobbi laughs. “After all your moping and whining about it, it certainly took you long enough.”

“I wanted to get it right!” Her husband responds indignantly. “Besides,  _ you _ try finding an engagement ring in the middle of the Turkish slums.”

They pause, and then laugh together. Enough time has passed that they can laugh, without things hurting them. Their yesterdays are soft and smeared like lights through a rainy windowpane; not gone and certainly not forgotten, but not sharp enough to hurt.

“I love you,” Bobbi says as the sun slides further away. It’s just a sliver of red on the horizon now.

“I love you more,” Lance replies.

“I love you most,” she answers. The sun is gone, but the moon has already risen.

They end the way they started; her crowned with silver, and him looking on. It’s not perfect, but it doesn’t have to be, since it’s not really an ending at all - just two people in love, finding peace on a beach.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Gort! I hope today you get time to enjoy a margarita of your own. ;)


End file.
